Untitled
by Ordos45
Summary: Ch4- The Satanists attack the Vatican directly, making Enrico and Integra fight together for survival.
1. Default Chapter

Untitled 

By: Ordos45

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer:  Hellsing still isn't mine.  None of the characters are, except my original one.

Chapter 1: E Nomine Satanis

"Saint Michael, Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; And do thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan and all the other evil spirits who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen," murmured Father Alexander Anderson as he stared at the teeming mass of ghouls before him.

His mission had been a simple one at the briefing at least.  A handful of FREAK vampires had been spotted outside of a medium sized city in the Philippines.  He was ordered to go in, eliminate the FREAK vampires, and make sure Section XIII's newest acquisition; Father Baggia didn't get himself killed. 

As the old saying went, no plan survived first contact with the enemy.  He arrived to find Father Baggia nearly overwhelmed outside the small airstrip.  It had taken the two of them almost an hour to fight off the ghouls there.  By that point he should have suspected something was remiss, but he did not.

It was after they had fought off those ghouls that Father Baggia had informed him that most of this small island's population had been transformed into ghouls.  That was unfortunate, that so many souls had been lost to these creatures and into damnation.  It was then that Father Anderson had decided to teach Baggia some of the more advanced fighting techniques.

It was almost an hour later when the two of them were separated by a swarm of ghouls and by what appeared to be cultists who screamed about their beloved Satan.  How these Satan Worshippers had managed to not be turned into ghouls, Anderson was unsure of.  However, while he had been busy with the ghouls, they had apparently captured Father Baggia.

He knew that despite his obligation to rescue his fellow regenerator, he needed to complete the mission objective first.  Even Baggia's life and this new satanic threat were secondary.  Anderson was not about to hop half a dozen islands in order to eliminate the FREAKs.

He forced himself back to the present.  With a low growl the paladin threw himself into the midst of his enemies.  On either side of him his blessed blades decapitated a ghoul.  His arms moved in a circle as he weaved throughout their lines, dealing death upon them.  

Despite the fact he was inflicting death, he smiled ferally.  He was cleansing the world of these abominations forever, and that pleased him, because it would in turn please the Lord.

Anderson rose to his full height after the final ghoul fell to his blessed blades.  He sensed only three undead presences remaining in the area.  Those, he was sure, were the FREAK vampires.

One flung himself out of the darkness at full speed, baring his fangs as he ran at the paladin.  Father Anderson smiled with amusement and extended his right arm, blessed blade held forward.  Some blood splattered across his vestments as the cheap vampire managed to impale itself through the heart on the silver blade in his hand.

The second sought to use the first's misfortune to his advantage, attacking from the rear and attaching to Anderson's back.  It bent forward to drink of the blood of the regenerator's neck and quickly found itself missing the head it had once owned.

Anderson snarled, and threw a blessed blade into the darkness.  He heard the scream of the final FREAK finding its way back to Hell.  He had sentenced them into damnation easily enough, but now he had to find Baggia.

Father Anderson walked for a good hour, checking home to home for his fellow regenerator.  He could no longer sense the man's presence…that meant either the young priest was dead, or somehow being hidden from Anderson's senses. 

Without warning a single shot broke through the night, and Anderson felt a sting in his arm.  He looked down to see a bullet hole sealing itself back up, the skin mending easily.  However, he winced; something was off about this bullet…almost as if it was the opposite number of his blessed blades.

"Show your self servant of Satan," yelled Anderson, his blades held ready.

"Why should I," asked a voice from the darkness.  It was in English, possibly an American if Anderson read the inflection and accent correctly.  Perhaps it was someone from the Appalachian Mountains. 

"Are you afraid," asked Anderson, trying to sense the vile presence usually let off by someone in the service of Satan.  However, much to his dismay he could not sense the vile presence.

"Of you regenerator," said the voice with a chuckle," Not hardly."

Anderson grimaced as a second cursed bullet flew into his leg.  He glared in the direction from where it had hit, and launched himself forward in full run.  This move made the regeneration of his leg harder, but he couldn't dare to lose this chance. 

"Come regenerator," taunted the voice," Surely you can heal such a small wound.  The impure blood of vampires flows through your veins after all."

Anderson's face twisted in a mask of fury.  How did this person know about the process used to create a regenerator involving the injection of vampiric blood?  Did this man know of the rituals also used to bond the soul of an angel to a human involved?

"Come find me," taunted the voice again,"Or are your angelic augmented senses failing you?"

Father Anderson tried to lock onto the area the voice came from.  He changed direction and leapt into the air slashing.  Two muzzle flashes exploded in front of him and he growled in pain as two of the cursed bullets slammed into his gut.   In front of him was the figure, hooded and in a cloak, reloading his weapon with skill and speed.

The figure lifted the gun towards Anderson once again as the paladin leapt forward slashing with blessed blades.  Anderson's shoulder was ripped off by three cursed bullets, but the hand holding the gun dropped to the ground.

"Who are you," snarled Anderson, pressing the cloaked figure up against a tree, blessed blade at his throat," And where is Father Baggia."

"You'd like to know that Catholic, wouldn't you," asked the man pinned against the tree.  Then sending spittle across Anderson's face he simply seemed to fade away.  

Anderson sheathed the blessed blades beneath his vestments, and slammed his fist into the tree in frustration.   It seemed he had met his opposite number among a group of Satan worshippers, and had lost a fellow regenerator, if even temporarily, all in one night.  No, this had been a bloody bad mission after all.


	2. Explanations and Interludes

Untitled

By: Ordos45

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer:  Hellsing still isn't mine.  None of the characters are, except my original one.

Chapter Two:  Explanations and Interludes

A/N:  Don't worry about offending me Bluemew.  We never learn from our mistakes unless someone critiques.  Thanks.

There was the definitive crackle of the old wood floor.  Someone was approaching him from behind, but Father Anderson continued to sit at attention.  He could show no fear here, for he should fear none in a house of God.

            "Father Anderson," said the quiet voice of his superior.

            "Father Maxwell," replied the paladin in his normal tone.

            The floor continued to creak as Maxwell paced around the chair, his voice echoing, despite being a mere whisper," Thousands of Catholics are dead.  Father Baggia is missing.  How would you explain this?"

            "I cannot explain what I do not know," replied Anderson honestly.

            "You cannot explain," replied Maxwell in a hushed tone, his right eyebrow twitching unconsciously.

            "Aye."

            "You said the island was already lost by the time you arrived," asked Maxwell, quiet tone a thousand times more terrifying and commanding than when he was screaming.

            "All I know is in my report," said the paladin, his inflection unchanging, despite being questioned by his leader.

            "I know," said Maxwell, his voice not rising above the level it had been," However a report is not enough.  I am the one who must tell His Holiness of the deaths of so many Catholics in a dominantly Muslim area of the world.  The circumstances will make things worse."

            "Aye Father," nodded the paladin from his chair, grasping it was not just his life hinging on the outcome of this mission's debriefing.

            "I am curious as to one thing however," said Maxwell, his voice taking on an icy chill in addition to its quiet tone," How did you manage to become wounded with cursed bullets if you only encountered ghouls and FREAKs?"

            "How did you," began Anderson surprised.

            "Our physicians found some of the fragments your body has yet to expel on their examination of you," replied his superior, still not raising his voice, knowing that the paladin wished to be screamed at.

            "I see," replied Anderson.  Alexander Anderson had never been a good liar during his lifetime, and even after all his contact with that which was corrupt, it still showed.  He had been caught trying to withhold information, even though he thought he would get away with it.

            "Would you care to explain," asked Maxwell coldly.

            "There was some creature there," said Anderson in reply.

           "Of what type," inquired Father Maxwell, his cool stare appraising the Paladin as one might a bug before squashing it.

            "It seemed to be my equal, but not a vampire," said Anderson quietly," and it knew of how regenerators were made."

            For the first time of the meeting, Father Enrico Maxwell was struck silent.  The most guarded secret of the Roman Catholic Church was known by an enemy they knew nothing about.

            It was dark, and even with his enhanced vision he could not pierce the darkness and see the leader of this agency.  The only sound in the room was that of their breathing, and the air circulation systems working.  

            "Did you distract him," asked the Director, a sense of urgency underlying his voice.

            "Yes," said the man with the Appalachian accent,"Anderson didn't arrive in time to stop the incident with Baggia."

            "Good," replied the Director," The Vatican must not know of the threat, not yet."

            "Perhaps we should inform them," asked the agent, shifting uncomfortably in the darkness.

            "They will find out soon," replied the Director," and I hope our deal with the Devil was not in vain."

            "I'd hardly call a fallen being the Devil," replied the agent, his accent coloring the apostrophe.

            "Close enough," replied the Director," too damn close for my tastes."


	3. Loss in the Night

Untitled

By:  Ordos45

Rating:  PG-13

Disclaimer:  I still don't own Hellsing.  Original characters yes, canon no.

Chapter 3:  Loss in the Night

A/N:

Bluemew- Thanks for the review.  I forgot to address something in your first review, I was using a first year Latin student for my Latin.

Tornado(Reviewer- I try to give Anderson his action, and hope I can continue to do so.

the son of duress- Thanks, I need to work on the length a lot.

Sensoo- Clichéd and choppy happens with writer's block, but thanks for telling me what I need to work with.

            "Who," whispered Sir Integra Hellsing, breathing labored and vision blurred.

            "I can't tell you," said the man standing above her in the ruins of the Hellsing mansion, his Appalachian accent almost unnoticeable amongst the crackling flames," I just do as I'm told." 

            "Bastard," she hoarsely said, hatred was evident in her face and voice.

            "Always," he smirked, and then faded away.

***

            The wind rustled through the trees, their leaves making a gentle noise through the air.  That air seemed heavy with darkness, however, and oppressive with the stench of fear.  Above in the sky the moon hung full in the sky, a gentle giant watching over what was to be done this night.

            "Who brings forward this sacrifice," asked the leader of the group.

            "I do," said a man, lowering his hood to reveal a long scar inflicted by a blessed blade in the Philippines," I bring Father Baggia as a sacrifice."

            "Then in the name of our master," said the leader," take his life with this blade, as well as the angel's who is bonded to his soul."

            "In the name of our master, I take this pitiful life, both angel and human to secure our victory over those who fight us," murmured the scarred man.  He lifted the cursed blade above his head, bringing it down towards Baggia's neck. 

            A shot crackled in the oppressive night air and the cursed blade was knocked from its owner's hands.  The small group that had gathered glanced about, looking for the source of the bullet.

            "You shall not kill the Regenerator," said a voice in the darkness of the forests, its accent similar to their own.

            "Who are you," yelled the scarred man," and why do you think this is your business?"

            "I am here to stop you, that is enough," said the voice, a cursed bullet ripping through one of the gathered men's' shoulder," You are such pathetic fools."

            "Pathetic fools," yelled the leader of the group," We captured a Vatican Regenerator.  We're a force to be reckoned with!"

            The man in the black cloak nodded his head slowly in his hiding place.  These fools felt that the Vatican and its Regenerators were powerful.  Well he would let them think what they would, but he would not allow this Regenerator to be sacrificed.  These Satanists could not be allowed the power taken by slaying an angelic soul, only he could be allowed that.

            A cursed bullet ripped through the night's air, and the Regenerator's head exploded across the clearing.  With a smirk the cloak wearing man felt the power he had gained," I shall leave you then.  I wouldn't want to face anyone as dangerous as you."

            He began to fade from his hiding place.  Yes a bit of power from two nosferatu and an angelic soul were good boosts for a night's work.

            He faded back into normal reality in the same dark room as the last time.  The Director's office made him edgy, as much as he hated to admit it," Both missions have been accomplished."

            "Good," said the Director, from his direction smoke could be smelled.

            "I can understand silencing Baggia before the Satanists could," said the agent, uncomfortably," but the Hellsing Organization?"

            "We have a Manifest Destiny," explained the Director coldly," be it in land area or preternatural hunting.  The organizations of Old Europe must be silenced so that we can become dominant and fulfill our Manifest Destiny."

***

            "Father Maxwell," said the secretary over the intercom," There's a woman here to see you."

            "A woman," he asked confused.  He reached into a desk drawer and released the safety on his glock.  He wouldn't be caught off guard by a Succubus.  With that precaution taken he spoke into the intercom," Send her in."

            The door creaked open to reveal a battered form in a tattered suit.  Her normally well groomed hair was disheveled, and the look of wariness on her face surprised him.  Perhaps it even dulled his senses, because he did not shoot before asking questions," What are you doing in Vatican City Sir Hellsing, our treaty forbids it."

            "Our treaty is void Catholic," she coughed hoarsely," My organization is gone….I have come to ask for….asylum."


	4. To Defend Holiness

Untitled

By:  Ordos45

Rating:  PG-13

Disclaimer:  I still don't own Hellsing.  Original characters yes, canon no.  I also don't own the Pope, the Vatican, or Cardinal Ratzenger…those are all real places and people.

Chapter 4:  To Defend Holiness

A/N: 

Tornado)Reviewer- Thanks.  Ready for the Anderson action I promised?

Bishonen no Hime- Alucard is…oh how do I give this away, but don't?  Remember Alucard's battle with Incognito in the anime and the events of the bloody tower?  If so…you have an idea.  

General Note:  Sorry it took so long to get around to this update.  I've been busy with schoolwork and such, plus I had to find my copy of _Angels and Demons_ for a map of the Vatican.

"They were formed upon the passing of HR3799," explained Integra, still disheveled, but surprised that she hadn't been thrown in an interrogation chamber.  In fact she was in a situation room with Father Maxwell, Pope John Paul II, and Cardinal Ratzenger.

"HR3799," whispered the pope softly, in a probing manner.

"The Constitution Restoration Act of 2004," replied the cardinal, before Integra could speak," It allowed for God's name to be invoked in a court of law to block any attempt at appeals.  Divine inspiration sentencing…"

Integra nodded, her body still aching from the battle and the days without sleep," There was a hidden section it seems, authorizing the creation of an agency to hunt preternatural beings…vampires, werewolves, and others.  I shouldn't have to explain the nature of our mutual work to you."

Enrico smiled faintly, the woman had lost her organization, her status, her pet nosferatu, and she was still stuck up.  It should have infuriated him, but given the fact his mortal enemy had been brought so low, he was too happy to be infuriated.  Integra Hellsing needed his help, and knowing he held that over her was the sweetest nectar of all.

"Of course not," replied the cardinal with a straight face.

Integra truly wondered why the head of the Inquisition…Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, she corrected herself, was here.  He had no real involvement in Iscariot's matters like the pope did, at least as far as her spies had always said.  So it was cause to wonder about it.

That was when the radio in the room crackled to life with the sound of gunfire," Terrorists arriving at the heliport…Muse…trances compromised…"

The pope and Cardinal Ratzenger looked alarmed, but Integra seemed nonplussed.  Enrico, with a glare and scowl spreading quickly along his face seemed to be expecting something of this nature.

"The Americans," asked Ratzenger worriedly.

"They wouldn't attack the Holy See so blatantly Eminence," replied Enrico, his voice dripping with contempt for the politician who draped himself in the role of a holy person," More likely it would be the Satanists Father Anderson fought in the Philippines."

"Ah yes," replied Ratzenger," where your Father Anderson lost one of our most promising young regenerators."

Father Maxwell refused to be baited,"  The same Satanists.  Now might I suggest you allow me and Iscariot to deal with them?"

"The Swiss Guard and Vatican Security Offices can handle them aptly," replied Ratzenger.

            The radio flared again," Heavy…sualties…we've lost…ports…useums…rised."

            "It certainly sounds like it," Integra commented with a small smile.  Yes she was backing Maxwell, but this cardinal seemed to be the type of career politician that would be at home on the Round Table.

            "Remain silent English sow," said Ratzenger hotly, losing his self control with the prospect of being so wrong.  He was indeed showing a caged politician is a politician without sanity.

            "Do not treat our guest with such an un-Christ like attitude," said the pope softly, surprising everyone in the room," Father Maxwell…you will go aid the Swiss Guard, the Vatican Security Offices, and the rest of Iscariot…"

            "Thank you Holiness," replied Enrico quickly, already turning for the door.

            "And you will take Sir Hellsing with you," the pope finished.

            "Yes…Holiness," mumbled Enrico, unable to refuse a direct order from the pope.

            Integra bristled, but she said nothing.  She was not about to make the pope mad, as he seemed to be the only person in this city who had any amount of goodwill towards her.

            "They're attacking the Vatican," said the agent.

            "As was expected," replied the Director.

            "I believe the Vatican will survive the assault."

            "Of course," said the Director, flicking his cigar into the darkness," But they will weaken it."

            Gunfire filled the air at the museums.  Several priceless pieces of artwork were punctured with bullet holes and shrapnel from grenades.  Another member of the Swiss Guard fell to a bullet.

            "Pity," said the man stepping out from a pillar," He was a good lad."

            Father Alexander Anderson withdrew his two blessed blades from the depths of his trench coat.  The first lashed out with ease, slicing the throat of a Satanist and sending a blood spray out onto the wall.  The second found a wrist and slipped through it easily, leaving a second Satanist without a hand.

            The now one handed Satanist tried to stab the paladin with a knife, but soon found his innards falling onto the floor as a stroke of the blessed blade gutted him.  Another Satanist came out from behind a pillar, firing from an AKMS assault rifle.  Anderson grimaced as the number of regular bullets hit him, but he moved swiftly, bringing a blessed blade first through the assault rifle and then through the man's head.

            A fourth Satanist was more cunning, and charged from behind with three others, firing their silenced pistols at the paladin.  He swiftly turned, his tattered trench coat flapping in the breeze of his turn and leapt at the Satanists.  His blessed blades tore through one of them and then another, sending up sprays of blood.  The other two kept charging and Anderson felt a bullet nick his right ear.  Smiling somewhat psychotically he thrust out his two blessed blades and they found their targets, one through the heart of each Satanist.

            A final group of four came at him wielding what appeared to be cursed blades, but he was not willing to give them the time to find out.  He delivered a kick to one's head, crushing it with a resounding crunch of bone.  A second's head flew off with a flick of a blessed blade.  A third soon found himself impaled on his own cursed blade as he tripped over the body of a comrade.  The final Satanist turned to run, but Anderson was on him in under a second, blades tearing through the body like a knife through warmed butter.

            Twelve total.  That seemed about right to Anderson as he sheathed his two blessed blades and pondered whether Enrico was out handling the other group.  If he was, then they were undoubtedly filled with bullets.

            Enrico Maxwell found himself grimacing as the pillar sent off shards of granite into his face.  Integra fired twice around the stone fountain they were hiding behind, smirking with satisfaction as two Satanists fell alongside their helicopter.

            "I never thought I would see the day we would fight together Maxwell," said Integra, ducking as another spray of granite exploded from the pillar.

            "Nor did I Protestant," Enrico said ducking, emphasizing the final word.

            "My family was Catholic for centuries," said Integra with intensity, firing a few more shots that ran wild.

            "Yes," replied Enrico," but then your heretical ancestors decided to remain loyal to Queen and country rather than the Church!"

            Enrico rose from behind the fountain, firing off four shots in quick secession, pleased to see that two Satanists were struck down as he too dove back to cover.  He looked over at Integra as they were showered again in granite.  It was amazing that they, two enemies, would fight side by side like this.

            "Indeed," said Integra, noting that four Satanists were now charging quickly towards their position.  She rose and fired twice, her clip emptying, but two Satanists fell dead.

            Enrico also rose from cover as Integra reloaded, and fired a single shot that drilled between the eyes of the lead Satanist of the remaining two.  He withdrew a blessed blade from his vestments and threw it into the heart of the other Satanist.  

            The four by the helicopter got in, and started it up.  Enrico and Integra both screamed in anger as it began to lift off…

      "Hello ya'll," said a cloaked figure with a definitive Appalachian drawl as he faded into view inside the helicopter.  Four cursed bullets ripped out of his weapon in seconds.  The first two hit the passengers square in the heart, and the last two took the pilot and co-pilot in the back of the head.  He smiled and faded out again as the helicopter crashed into the helipad, exploding in flames.


End file.
